


Possession

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Steve Rogers, Cockblocking, Humor, M/M, Online Dating, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Reconciliation, Supernatural Elements, ikiryo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 07:23:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12526044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: It’s not easy leaving Bucky behind, but Steve can’t stay in Wakanda pining over a friend who chose cryo sleep over him. He has to move on, both literally and figuratively. But something beyond this realm disagrees.





	Possession

  


The ride from JFK to the new Avengers compound in Adirondack, New York is smooth. There’s low jazz music playing and Tony’s driver, Happy, is pleasant. It sets Steve at ease, or at least relieves some of the tension that’s had him on edge since Tony called to tell them they’d been pardoned.

“I can’t believe we’re back,” Sam says beside him, his face practically pressed against the window like a little kid.

Steve stares too, looking out the window on his side as the city flies by, a blur of tall dark silhouettes and soft moonlight reflecting on the Hudson. 

Wakanda was so much better, and worse. A deep ache grows in Steve’s chest as he thinks of the geometrically diverse buildings they left behind and how they glowed in the light of a moon that loves T’Challa’s home country a little more than the rest of the world. Steve never knew the moon could be so big and bright, and sometimes, he almost believed he could touch it. Here in its perch above the New York skyline, the moon is much smaller and dimmer and just as impossible to touch as the home he and Sam left in Wakanda. Along with Bucky.

Bucky is over seven thousand miles away, and Steve has to make peace with that. He’s had almost a year to get over the fact his best friend chose to go into cryo sleep. 

But he’s not over it yet.

He startles as Sam bumps his shoulder against him. “We’re really home! You know the first thing I’m gonna do?”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Get a slice of pizza?”

“Yes!” Sam shouts. “You’ve learned well, my Padawan.”

Steve rolls his eyes as Sam leans in to talk to Happy.

“Hey man, can you make a stop before we leave the city?”

“Sure thing,” Happy replies. 

*

As soon as Happy puts the limo in park, Tony’s silhouette pops out beneath the security lights at the entrance of the compound. Steve swallows and glances over at Sam, who shrugs. 

“He got us pardoned.”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

They step out of the limo and Tony’s silhouette straightens against the pavement. Steve immediately wishes he had x-ray vision so he could see Tony’s face. He’s not sure what to expect. Is Tony going to make this more difficult than it already is? Is he still bitter or angry? Was the pardon and ticket home a ruse to bring Steve back and exact some sort of revenge? 

Perhaps this is the reason Wanda decided to return to Eastern Europe and Clint and Scott opted for direct flights back to their families.

Happy has already left them to greet Tony. Steve can’t move his feet.

“Hey man, you cool?” Sam asks cautiously.

Steve sighs. Tony was on his back the last time Steve saw him, completely defenseless, and waiting to have his head caved in by the shield his father made. 

That particular scene makes a frequent appearance in Steve’s nightmares. 

The limo’s trunk pops open and Sam and Steve walk to the back, where their bags are waiting inside.

Sam retrieves his suitcase. Steve grabs his duffel bag and backs away. The trunk door promptly slams closed.

Both Steve and Sam frown down at the top of the trunk. 

“What’s taking you guys so long?” Tony’s voice cuts in as he strides up on Sam’s side. “This is already going to be the most awkward reunion ever, it doesn’t need your help. Wilson, good to see you, bud. How’s it hanging? Oh wait, you don’t have to carry your own suitcase, Happy will get that for you. Happy!”

“Yes, boss?”

“Help our guests with their bags. What am I paying you for?” Tony asks. “Wait, don’t answer that.”

Happy steps closer but Sam waves him off. “Nah man, it’s fine. You already did enough. That was a long ass drive.”

Happy points down at Sam’s bag and then over to Steve’s duffel bag. “Uh...how did you guys get into the trunk? It’s locked.”

“C’mon man, you just popped the trunk open and shut it with your remote,” Sam says in exasperation.

Happy shakes his head. “No, I didn’t.”

There’s a tense moment of silence as they all stare at the trunk in bafflement.

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up and he does an exaggerated full body shiver. “Okay, spooky, but this is a very expensive limo. Probably has some features Happy hasn’t figured out yet. Happy, didn’t I tell you to review the owner’s manual?”

Happy opens his mouth, but Tony’s talking before he can even get a word out. “I know you hate reading, but it’s fundamental. Come on everyone, it’s chilly out here. Let’s get you guys set up in your rooms.”

*

Steve and Sam’s units are really more like apartments, and they are right next to each other. Spacious and outfitted better than most hotels, with a cool looking state of the art television, desktop computer with no stand - just a floating monitor, and a digital clock that looks like it came straight from a spaceship. Steve is struck with an unexpected pang of homesickness for Wakanda. The home he and Sam shared there had a lot of the same cool high tech gadgets Tony’s room has, but it also had a warmth and hominess that Steve took for granted. 

The knock on his door shakes him out of his sulking. He opens the door and is surprised to see both Sam and Tony standing there.

“You hungry?” Tony asks. 

“Tony, it’s past midnight,” Steve says incredulously.

“So?” Tony replies in bafflement. 

Steve’s eyes jump to Sam, who shrugs. “Personally, I’m starving; that pizza slice was five hours ago and I know for a fact you haven’t eaten anything since lunch. Which is really crazy considering how much you usually eat.”

As if on cue, Steve’s stomach makes an embarrassing loud noise. Both Tony and Sam stand there grinning. God, he’s surrounded by jerks.

“Yeah, okay.”

Forty minutes later, Steve is slouched into the couch and holding his belly. He’s not sure how he, Sam, and Tony ended up curled up on the common room couches, but here they are. They’re all islands, each sitting on their own soft chaise buried beneath blankets and lethargic from a steak dinner cooked to order by Tony’s chef. The New York cheesecake with strawberry compote was the final blow. 

Completely stuffed and satiated, Steve thinks he may actually fall asleep in the lounge next to Tony fucking Stark of all people. They haven’t spoken in over a year after almost killing each other, but it's just the sort of weird that’s become normal in his life. 

He finds himself staring at Tony’s profile and before he can turn away, Tony catches him. 

“What?”

Steve shakes his head. 

“Just admit it, you missed me, Cap,” Tony says with a smirk.

Steve groans. “I really didn’t.”

A flicker of doubt and something Steve doesn’t want to examine crosses Tony’s face. Things are going a lot better than Steve originally thought, and he doesn’t want to be the one to muck it up.

“Okay, maybe a little,” he amends.

“I knew it!” Tony says triumphantly.

Sam shakes his head. “Man, don’t encourage him.”

The sound of a loud crack snaps through the air, and they all freeze, staring down at the space between Tony’s couch and the glass table where his dinner plate lays shattered on the marble floor. 

"Calm down, Tony,” Sam says. “Look at you, breaking shit.”

Tony looks scandalized. “No, I didn’t! Did you see me touch that? I didn’t even move!” 

Steve scoffs but Tony just waves it off and slides back down onto his back. 

“It is late. And I haven’t slept in days.”

“Days?” Sam asks.

Tony covers his eyes like he’s trying to hide beneath his hand. “Geez, did I say that out loud? I’m just gonna stop talking.”

“Not possible,” Steve and Sam say at the same time.

“Fuck both of you,” Tony sighs.

The silence that follows is pregnant with something significant. Steve clutches the blanket over him just a little tighter to his chest and looks over to Sam shuffling onto his side, trying to get comfortable. They exchange a meaningful stare and slowly look to Tony, who is still face-palming himself.

They’re all just laying there, on the precipice of a very difficult conversation, but no one wants to jump first. Steve really wants to crack the bubble, but his stubbornness won’t allow his mouth to move. Finally Sam huffs, drawing both Tony and Steve’s attention. Both relief and dread flood Steve.

“I’m not doing this, alright?” Sam says.

“Doing what?” Tony asks skeptically.

“Walking on pins and needles, dancing around elephants. I’m done with all of the drama. When we first got to Wakanda, I was mad as hell at both of y’all. But Steve was the only one I could confront. And he and I exchanged words, some not so nice, about what went down last year.”

Steve nods, he remembers that fight with Sam all too well. 

“But we worked through it, and now we’re much better off because we used our words. Aren’t we?” Sam asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly, glancing to Tony.

There’s an anxious look in Tony’s eyes that makes Steve’s stomach roll with guilt. He really wasn’t prepared to do this tonight, but Sam’s right. Ignoring it isn’t going to do them any good, especially if they plan on staying at the compound.

“Now, some bad shit went down between you two,” Sam continues. “And we all got caught up in it. But we’re here now, Tony. You brought us back, and we’re grateful for that. But that doesn’t mean we can ignore what happened. So let’s do this now, ‘cause I wanna enjoy my time back after being in exile for almost a year.”

Steve swallows hard. “Tony, I know I said this in the letter I sent you, but I wanted to tell you this in person - I’m sorry. I should have told you what I knew when I knew it, but Bucky’s family. I care about you too. But I wasn’t sure what you would do to him, and…”

Tony closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Well, Cap, you’re brighter than you look. Based on how I reacted when I found out, you were wise not to tell me. Still hurts though.”

Steve nods. “I never wanted to hurt you,Tony. Neither did Bucky. It really wasn’t him that--”

“I really hated you for awhile,” Tony interrupts. “The way you kept repeating _‘It wasn’t him”_ , like it was another guy wearing his face who killed my parents. I wanted to strangle you. Terminator Barnes too. Jury’s still out on him actually, but… I guess from a purely academic standpoint, I can appreciate the complexity of his situation now.” Tony sighs heavily and Steve stops breathing, waiting. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry how things turned out. I know how much he means to you.”

The previous pang of homesickness returns tenfold, only this time, Steve isn’t thinking about the cozy surroundings of his place in Wakanda. Bucky has always been his real home. If Tony, of all people, can see how significant that loss is, there’s nowhere for Steve to run from it. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, hating how naked he feels, even fully clothed and buried beneath a blanket. 

Sam and Tony are still looking at him. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Tony asks.

Steve sets his jaw and makes a swift decision. “No. I’m fine. Bucky made his decision, and I’m okay with it.”

Sam looks skeptical and Tony is halfway into a shrug when the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen makes them snap to attention.

Tony swears, rising and sliding his feet into some slippers to investigate. “Look at this. Some asshat left a glass halfway on the counter. Dum-E!”

A small robot with a soft beep comes rolling into the common room, and looks up at Tony, who points down at the floor. “Clean.”

The robot promptly gets to work, pulling out a small dustpan and small whisk broom to clean up the mess. 

Tony strolls back to his couch and settles while Steve tries not to squirm under Sam’s assessing stare.

“Now, where were we? Oh yes, we did the heart to heart thing and I even showed sympathy for the man who murdered my parents and asked Cap to share his feelings. Of course he said no, but I should get brownie points for trying, right? What do you think, Sam? How’d we do?”

Sam shakes his head, looking between the two of them. “I think you’re both assholes.”

 

*

It’s nearly four in the morning when Steve finally hauls his ass off those magnificent couches to settle into his new room. The mattress is much nicer than the one he had in Wakanda, but Steve can’t help but brood over how foreign it feels. It doesn’t matter, he hasn’t really had a full night of sleep since he woke up, and even less since Bucky went back into cryo. 

He grits his teeth as he thinks of his best friend and his resolute decision to go back under. No consultation, no discussion at all. Just ‘I gotta do this’. 

Steve huffs as he stares up at the into the dark ceiling, listening to...nothing. In Wakanda, even in their air conditioned apartments, they could hear the distant hustle and bustle of the city just blocks away, and the sound of wildlife in the expansive jungle in their backyards.

This new silence is maddening. 

Steve wonders for the hundredth time, what cryo sleep is like for Bucky. Is he in pain? Does he dream? Familiar glassiness blurs his vision and he tries to shut his eyes and clear his mind. It never works, of course. Bucky’s blue-grey eyes stare back at him, full of resignation and duty. 

_"I think going back under is the best thing...for everybody."_

“Damn it, Bucky,” Steve whispers in the dark.

Something clatters on the desk across the room and Steve bolts up, fists drawn, listening hard. He narrows his eyes, peering into the dark, and sees nothing.

“Friday, lights please.”

“Yes, Captain,” the A.I. responds.

Soft dim light illuminates the room and Steve sees one of the overpriced corporate pieces of art that came with the room laying face down on the desk. There’s no glass though, so there’s nothing to clean up. It was probably hung wrong, Steve figures. 

He shakes his head, suddenly very tired. That was just the distraction he needed to get out of his head. 

“Thanks, Friday, please turn the lights off.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Captain.”

*

When Steve wakes, there’s a warmth over him that calls up memories from before the war, before the serum, where he’d vacciliate from too cold to waking up blanketed in the warmth of Bucky. But Bucky’s not here so Steve combs his hand over his face to pull himself from the dream. The warmth disappears and Steve’s heart aches just a little bit. It was a great dream, and so visceral. 

He drags himself out of bed, showers, and goes to roam the new complex. It’s pretty amazing, particularly the training rooms. Steve has plans for those, but first he needs to ask Tony why a massive complex designed for superheroes is practically empty.

“Where’s everyone?” Steve asks, looking around Tony’s workshop like the rest of the team is going to slink out from behind the furniture. He’s actually surprised he was allowed to enter this space. Apparently, Tony’s going all out to extend the olive branch.

“Oh right. I forgot we haven’t actually caught up with each other. That international pardon business was kinda distracting.”

A punch of guilt and gratitude hits Steve but he has too much pride to say anything. Tony doesn’t pause for a ‘thank you’ either. 

“Natasha is doing solo recon in an undisclosed location. Seems to be her thing nowadays, especially after…” he waves his hand like that explains everything. “Banner is still M.I.A. out there somewhere, although Friday has a hypothesis that he’s not on Earth. We’re guessing he might be in contact with Thor. No solid confirmation on that though. Vision is being weird. I think he’s still holding a grudge about the misunderstanding over Wanda.”

“Misunderstanding?” Steve says, with a bit more bite than he intended.

Finally, Tony swivels around in his seat, his eyes are bloodshot and have heavy bags beneath them.

“Can we not? Please. I’m too tired to do the reflective listening thing. After our little kumbaya session last night, I got the brilliant idea that I could solve all of my relationship problems with everyone. So I called Pepper. ”

Steve winces.

“Yeah, exactly,” Tony says. “Good news though, we’re back to ‘working on it’. That’s huge progress. Before you guys showed up, we were at ‘Tony, I think you need time to work on yourself’.

“Well, congratulations, I guess,” Steve says hesitantly.

Tony’s answering smile catches him off-guard. It doesn’t look like he's humoring Steve. He seems genuinely pleased.

“Thanks, Cap. Wanna celebrate?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, let’s do that. Go get Birdman and we’ll go out.”

“Out?”

Tony looks at Steve like he’s gone a little crazy, which is ironic because the new Avengers compound is literally in the sticks. There’s nowhere to go in Adirondack.

*

"This is dope as hell!” Sam marvels. Steve agrees. Sticks & Stones Wood Fired Bistro is all log cabin wood and stone, with a warm fire burning in the huge hearth just beyond the bar. It’s cozy, low key, and best of all, on a Monday night it’s nearly empty. The owner greets Tony with a friendly smile and her eyes go wide when she spots Steve and Sam. 

“Well, we don’t have a red carpet, but I can fetch you boys my best beer,” she says.

“Excellent,” Tony says. 

The imported lager goes down easy, and is the perfect compliment to the bistro’s homestyle Italian cuisine. Even better, the conversation over dinner flows much easier than it should. 

Steve keeps waiting for a tripwire to send them spiraling down into a ditch of all of their old hurts and disagreements, but it never appears. Both Tony and Sam talk like they’re just as eager to move past things and find some common ground. Sure, the jokes are a bit ham-fisted and they all laugh a little too hard, but there’s an unspoken understanding now tethered to a desperate hope that hovers over the table. Steve can almost picture a future where the easiness and camaraderie from before comes naturally. 

It’s probably that hope that pushes them back into the common room they camped out in the night before, this time, with a ‘Jane the Virgin’ marathon in the background as Sam and Tony start debating the merits of abstinence vs. having regular sex. 

Steve tries to focus on the show, but its practically impossible with when they keep trying to pull Steve into the conversation every few minutes.

“It’s not good for you,” Tony says matter-of-factly. “That’s pure science. And I should know, I’m a scientist. It’s been proven, case closed and shut. Biologically, you have to clean the pipes out or very bad things start to happen.”

Sam huffs. “Oh yeah, well explain nuns then...and monks! Over a thousand years of abstinence and by their accounts, it can help you reach new levels of awareness and peace.”

“Um, no,” Tony argues. “That’s called _insanity_. If I took away all of your water and access to water, you’d become dehydrated but first, you’d start having delusions, and you’d probably call it nirvana. You’re still going to die.”

“No one ever died from not having sex, Tony,” Steve huffs.

“Ah, he speaks!” Tony says with a smug smirk that Steve sort of wants to smack off his face. “Very interesting how you picked this very moment to jump in.”

Steve opens his mouth to retort when Sam clears his throat. “Hey man, it’s fine. Nothing’s wrong with abstinence. Stark’s just kidding, right?”

That’s Sam’s counselor voice. It raises Steve’s hackles more than Tony’s teasing. 

“No, I wasn’t,” Tony says plainly. “People need to get laid regularly. There would be a lot less angry people in the world if sex was used more wisely.”

Steve groans. “Give it a rest, Tony.”

“Me thinks someone doth protest too much. In fact, Cap, you’ve been rather grumpy.”

“I have not,” Steve says, rather pouty.

Sam chuckles and shakes his head. “I told you.”

That piques Tony’s interest. He sits up, eyes focused on Sam. “You told him what?” 

Sam sighs and looks at Steve, silently asking for permission. 

Steve glances between Sam and Tony and figures this conversation has already crossed boundaries they’ve never dared broach before. They’re gonna talk anyway when he leaves the room, he just knows it.

Steve gives the slightest of nods and Sam’s smile grows. 

“Steve needs to get laid. Like bad. He’s like way overdue.”

Tony is suddenly sitting up, leaning in closer to look at Sam, a devilish grin on his face. “How overdue is he?”

Steve glares at Sam who winces. “I don’t really know. But I do know that Steve didn’t hook up with anyone in Wakanda, so it’s been at least a year. Probably longer because I’m pretty sure he hasn’t hooked up with anyone since Bucky showed up. ”

The low whistle Tony gives only adds insult to injury. 

“I’m not into casual sex,” Steve grits out.

“Are you into sex at all?” Tony asks, his voice unusually serious. “Cause you know there are people who just aren’t.”

Sam shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, that’s not what this is.”

Steve opens his mouth to challenge him until Sam raises his eyebrows with a dare in his eyes. Heat spreads across Steve’s face with the memory of Sam coming home early and catching him jerking off fervently. Thank god he hadn’t moaned out Bucky’s name like he sometimes does.

Tony, perceptive as ever, looks far too amused. Steve averts his eyes.

“Anyway, trust me, this man is horny as hell,” Sam continues. “but he’s not even trying. What’s up with that? How can you find a steady to have meaningful sex with if you’re not even putting yourself out there?”

Tony nods. “Gotta swing your bat, Cap. Can’t hide in the dugout if you want to play.” He frowns. “Did that analogy work? I know how much you like baseball.”

Steve groans and drops his head in his hands.

“Alright, enough with the pep talks, let’s try this,” Sam says.

Steve raises his head to look at him. “Try what?” 

“Fuckbook,” Sam says with delight, pulling out his phone.

Steve sputters, his face growing hot. “What?”

“You heard me, Fuck. Book.” Sam says it with emphasis, which makes it sound even more filthy to Steve. “It’s a hookup app. And it delivers. I've pulled a few honeys off of this. And it’s all transparent. Everyone on it wants to get laid, no strings attached, no drama.”

Sam walks over and sits right next to Steve, and Tony moves faster than Steve’s ever seen him to sit next to Steve. Steve frowns as they both squeeze him to look at the screen of Sam’s phone. Then Sam taps on an app that’s actually called Fuckbook. Tony chuckles and Steve looks between the both of them.

How did they go from watching Netflix to this? 

“This is amazing,” Tony says, reaching over to scroll down the profiles. “How come these things never present themselves when I’m single?”

“Are you telling me you would actually use a site called Fuckbook, Tony?” Steve asks skeptically. “It’s not like you have trouble finding willing partners.”

“That’s the problem,” Tony says. “The people who want to fuck me, want other things too. Namely, my money. I’d be so down for a site that cuts through all of that. It’s like Uber Eats or something, only for sex.”

Sam grimaces. “When you put it like that, it sounds sorta fucked up.”

“Finally!” Steve says in relief. “There’s the Sam Wilson I know.”

Sam looks to his side in confusion, like Steve is speaking to someone else. “I don’t know who you think Sam Wilson is, but I like fucking. And this is a great way to do it.”

Tony claps “So let’s do it. We’ll create a profile for Cap tonight. ”

The flat screen television mounted on the far wall slips and falls onto its face with a loud crash. All three of them stare at the television in shock.

“What the fuck? Is that you, Friday?” Tony asks his A.I. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, I had nothing to do with that, Sir. And as you know, I do not get angry,” the A.I. responds. “If I did, surely it would have happened by now.”

“Was that snark?” Tony asks. 

“It’s your A.I.,” Sam says in exasperation. “You tell us.”

Tony shrugs. “Friday, give me a 3-D projection and pull up Fuckbook. While she’s doing that, Cap, start thinking of a screen name. Something fun and flirty.”

*

They end up creating a profile with the name ‘Free Agent’. It’s a testament to just how much Steve really trusts Sam that he willingly poses for pictures of his bare chest and profile to post to Fuckbook. 

As embarrassing and silly as it is, Steve can’t ignore the excited thrill of _trying._ He’s putting himself out there and he can’t deny there’s a seed of hope attached to it. 

There’s almost 200 men and women from upstate New York registered on Fuckbook. Steve just needs to find one person to take his mind off of Bucky and perhaps help him give up the ridiculous unrequited torch he’s been holding for his best friend since he was fifteen. 

When he finally gets to bed, it’s almost five in the morning. He has to turn his phone off to avoid checking it. Sam told him not to check it right away. That absence makes him look busier and more selective. 

Rolling over on his side, away from his phone, Steve tries for once not to dream of blue-grey eyes and a charming smile frozen in stasis nearly seven thousand miles away.

*

It’s been hard not to look at his phone, but Steve’s made it all the way through lunch. 

“Ok, that’s enough,” he mumbles, throwing down the remote and picking up his phone to check his inbox on Fuckbook.

Steve gasps.

He has 342 messages. Some of them from people from across state lines, and many from the same people practically begging to meet Steve. A dopey grin takes over his face as he begins to comb through looking for people with completed profiles.

He plans to deal with the surprise reveal of his identity on a case by case basis. Hopefully he only has one or two cases to deal with. He’s looking for a steady fuck buddy. First things first though - find someone he wants to sleep with. 

Steve spends nearly an hour assessing emails when everything grinds to a halt. Her name is LanaDRey1984 and Steve can’t stop staring at her profile. 

He can practically hear Bucky teasing him about making moony eyes at a picture. A flash of unexpected anger burns through him, quick and thorough. Bucky’s not here. He chose a different path, one that prevents Steve from following him. 

Steve clicks on the profile. Lana, or whatever her real name is, has dark lush hair done up in curls that pay homage to 1950 pin-up girls. Her eyes are cut out of the frame of all of her pictures, but her mouth isn’t. It’s the centerpiece. She’s got the kind of full lips that belong on a movie star. Paired with the hair, if Steve squints just so, he can see the co-founder of SHIELD and his almost girlfriend, Peggy. 

A strange malaise falls over him as he considers how wrong it is to choose a date because they’re reminiscent of an old flame. But Steve’s already anxious about meeting up with a complete stranger. Being attracted to the person is a great start. 

“Army vet too. Nice,” Steve murmurs, scrolling down her profile. 

Something breaks behind him.

He really should be used to it by now. Since moving into the new complex, things mysteriously fall and break around him all the time. But it still makes him jump a little.

Steve looks behind him to the night stand, where he keeps a small cadre of photographs. There’s one of the Howling Commandos next to a black and white photograph of him and Bucky laughing after a successful mission. Next to that picture there should be a single framed photograph of Peggy.

But it’s laying face down, with shards of glass from the impact scattered on the edge of the bed and carpet below.

Steve frowns. He’s about to get up and clean up the mess when his monitor begins to ring like a telephone. Searching the screen, Steve sees a green telephone icon and the words “Secure Call Incoming’ flashing. 

It’s Lana. 

Steve freezes up, staring at the computer and then he just plops down and clicks on the icon to answer. 

“Hello Steve?” a woman asks. Her voice is smooth and rich like good dark coffee. 

Steve smiles.“That’s me, and you must be...Lana?” 

She laughs, and wow it’s just as sexy as her voice. 

“Sure, you can call me that. You're quite handsome. Well, from what I can see anyway. You have a sexy body. Matches your sexy voice.”

“Thanks.” Steve says shyly.

“I wouldn’t mind giving you a ride. Do you like being ridden? Or do you have a different position in mind?”

Steve face flushes. “Uh, yeah, I like it all,” he says, hoping that covers enough to save him from any more embarrassing conversation with a complete stranger about sex. 

“Excellent. You’ve been tested?”

“Yes,” Steve says quickly because his blood is always being drawn for Dr. Cho’s side projects these days.

“Good. But test or no test, I only fuck guys who wear skins.”

“Skins?” Steve asks.

She laughs. “You know, condoms. Wow, you sound totally square. I kinda wanna blow your mind now,” she purrs.

Steve swallows. He’s definitely up for that.

“So where you wanna meet?” she asks. “Motel 6 or…”

“The Point.”

She whistles low. “That place is expensive.”

“It’s no big deal,” Steve says. “And I value discretion more than anything.”

“Huh. You married or something?”

“Something,” Steve says coyly.

She chuckles. “OK, mystery man. What time then?”

They chat for a few more minutes, exchange phone numbers, and make plans to meet within the hour. 

Steve hops in the shower and scrubs down thoroughly. It’s been a long time since he’s had sex, and he’s buzzing with nervousness and excitement. 

He makes sure he smells real good, everywhere. Then he puts on the blue shirt Sam says makes him look like a sex god and some nice grey slacks. Running his hand through his hair to make it look artfully messy, he spends a little too long in the mirror primping. 

Finally, he realizes he’s stalling, and forces himself to turn away from his reflection and get a fresh box of condoms from the drawer of sex supplies Tony stocked in his bedroom. Steve still can’t tell if that’s a joke or not, and there’s no way he’s asking.

All set to go, he reaches inside the key bowl for the keys to his rental car, only to find it empty.

“Shit,” he murmurs, searching the counter, then the sofa; making sure to look between cushions, then his bedroom. 

A half an hour later, he’s combed through his entire place and still can’t find them.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he groans, keenly aware he’s already late. 

He gnaws at his bottom lip, wondering if it’s some sort of sign. But no, if this is a sign, so is finding Lana online, and he’s not going to just give up. 

As much as he hates to do this, desperate times call for desperate measures, and something tells Steve Tony will not mind helping him out for this particular cause.

“Friday, can you get Tony on the intercom?”

“Yes Captain,” the A.I. says.

Steve hears the sound of a drill and then metal clanking before Tony’s voice breaks over the system. 

“Yeah, Cap, what’s up?”

“I need a car. I can't find the keys to my rental,” Steve says, bracing himself for an interrogation.

“Like right now? It’s close to midnight.”

“Yes,” Steve says, unable to keep the defiance out of his voice.

“Is this for business or _pleasure_?” Tony asks, doing a piss poor job of veiling his smug confidence it’s the latter.

“Pleasure,” Steve grits out.

The sound of Tony’s ‘yes!’ is very loud over the speaker. “Oh goody! Cap’s gonna get laid. Cap’s gonna get laid!”

“Tony--”

“Look, for this momentous occasion, you can take any car of mine you want. Hell, I’ll have Happy drive you there.”

“No, Tony, I don’t need an escort. But thanks,” Steve says, one-hundred percent certain he just dodged an attempt to place a tail on him.

“Alright, then may I recommend the Aston Martin or Bugatti? Chicks dig those.”

Steve grumbles in disapproval at everything Tony just said.

“Although they do tend to draw a crowd and you’re kind of low key,” Tony continues “Plus, this is just a one night stand, right?”

“Tony--” Steve says in warning.

The frustrated sigh he receives is irritating, and he’s about to tell Tony to forget it. He’ll figure out another way. And he will definitely set aside some time to return the rental car and buy a motorcycle tomorrow.

“Fine, be like that then,” Tony says in a rather bratty tone. “So let’s see, you probably want something classy and understated. OK, take the Benz. The grey one, not the red!”

Steve sighs in relief that this conversation is finally coming to an end. “Where are the keys?”

“No keys needed. Friday operates all of my cars. But if you insist on driving, the keys are in the glove compartment.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve says. “I’ll have it back by tomorrow.”

“No problem, Cap. Have fun! And don’t forget to wrap it up!”

Steve rolls his eyes and makes a beeline for the front door. But when he tries to open it nothing happens. He pulls harder and the door gives a little and then slams shut.

Steve growls and uses both hands to pull and digs his feet into the carpet like he would in a tug of war. Finally, whatever caused the door to stick from the other side loosens its hold and Steve goes flying back, taking the entire door with him. 

He groans and throws the door off of him, staring up at the ceiling in shock when suddenly the fire protection sprinklers turn on.

“Are you kidding me?” he yells out as water rains over him, soaking his skin, hair, and clothing.

Steve runs for shelter into his bedroom and texts Lana to tell her he’s running late. He dries off and changes his clothing quickly but not quick enough. His phone buzzes.

 **LANA:** _I’m leaving. Been here for 1 hour. Thanks 4 nuthin. I bet that wasn’t even your body in those pictures. Do me a favor, please lose my number._

Steve turns off his phone and decides to just call it a night. He changes one last time, into a pair of teddy bear pajama bottoms that strangely reminds him of Bucky, although he would never admit that to anyone. 

Steve crawls into bed and curls up underneath the covers and calls out to Friday to turn out the lights

He’s so disappointed and frustrated with the way the evening has turned out that he doesn’t even notice that the lights went out a few seconds before he even asked and Friday never responded. 

*

“Man, some strange shit is happening around here,” Sam says grumpily as he stuffs his mouth with chips.

Flashes of his disastrous evening three nights ago has Steve turning to look at him. “Like what?”

“Like Happy drove me to the Outlet mall yesterday and the passenger side seat of the limo slides all the way back on its own. Like some asshole just decided to sit there and wanted to make a bed in the front seat. Happy couldn’t pull the seat back, and I had to slide over after I managed to get my legs un-cramped.”

Tony shakes his head. “Happy really needs to read that owner’s manual.”

“It’s not just that. I have a very particular order to how I keep my stuff, and sometimes when I come back to my room, it’s like someone rearranged everything,” Sam says. “Tony, you swear you’re not fucking with me? Cause I don’t play that shit, man.”

Tony holds up both hands. “Scout’s honor.”

Both Sam and Steve look at Tony dubiously. 

“Okay, so I wasn’t a Boy Scout. I swear on my entire suit collection though.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Your regular suits or Iron Man suits?”

Tony huffs. “Both. Come on guys, I’m trying here. Where’s the trust? I thought we were bonding.”

A snarky response is on the tip of Steve’s tongue, but their relationship is still too fragile for those kind of jokes.

“We are,” Steve says with a small smile. “Speaking of which, anyone up for another movie?”

*  
Steve, Sam, and Tony, watch a lot of movies over the next few weeks. Sometimes Vision joins them, but Steve does notice he’s less talkative than he was before all of the conflict. Steve gets the distinct impression Vision is sulking about Wanda choosing to return to Europe, and boy can he relate to that feeling. 

Everywhere Steve looks he’s reminded of Bucky. When they’re watching Netflix, Steve wonders what Bucky would think of a particular character or how he would react. When he’s running around the extensive outdoor track with Sam, surrounded by the beautiful reds, oranges, and yellows of the trees, Steve thinks Bucky would really appreciate the beauty of upstate New York.

At night, right before Steve drifts off to sleep, he wonders if Bucky dreams while in cryo and if he dreams about Steve. 

In the mornings, Steve now wakes up expecting the warmth of Bucky. It’s becoming a thing now. The last dream carrying him to consciousness. At least that’s what he tells himself. It’s the only thing that explains why it always feels so real. Sometimes he just lays there, basking in it, pretending he’s really in Bucky’s arms. 

But when he’s awake, really awake, strange things start happening. Stuff gets moved around - a pen removed from a penholder, a dirty cup ends up in the sink, a t-shirt he discarded on the floor ends up in the dirty clothes hamper. Steve tries to ignore it all but it’s getting harder each time it happens.

If he stops to think about it though, it might just freak him out.

*

Steve’s eyes pop as he stares at the message he just received in his Fuckbook inbox. 

This guy has no shame. He’s showing his face, unlike most people, and he’s smiling right into the camera. Steve is instantly attracted. Handsome with blue eyes and dark hair, Steve isn’t even going to try to convince himself there’s no resemblance to Bucky.

He bites his bottom lip and shoots the guy a DM.

 **FREE AGENT:** _You’re very attractive. Take a look at my pics and if you like what you see, I’d like to meet up._

Steve hates waiting around for rejection, so he puts the phone down on the coffee table and picks up the remote to turn on the television. His phone begins to vibrate to indicate he has a message and he reaches for it. 

It slides out of his reach by at least six inches. 

Steve gapes at it for a moment, and then blinks, unsure of what he just saw. Slowly, he reaches for his phone again, but the televisions turns on, loud and distracting.

Steve withdraws his hand and stares down at the remote, which he never touched.

His eyes roam the room, wondering if this is one of Tony’s pranks or if perhaps Friday is malfunctioning. Is that possible? Even if it was, how would that explain how his phone moved.

He picks up the remote, turns the television off, and looks up at the ceiling. “Friday?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Did you just turn on the television?”

“No Captain. I was not responsible for that, and I am unable to determine how that occurred.”

“OK,” Steve says slowly, a bit unnerved. Slowly, he cuts his eyes to the right, almost expecting to see some new super-villain, because of course that’s what this has to be. He’s gotten too comfortable and complacent here in upstate New York.

But there’s no one there, and no one behind him. 

His phone buzzes again, and Steve lunges for it, but the thing actually flips and lands face down onto the carpet. It’s still buzzing, and now Steve is getting frustrated. He leans over to retrieve it when the television turns back on, louder than before, the channels changing like someone is flipping through them with dissatisfaction.

Steve freezes, staring with wide eyes at the screen. The hair on Steve’s forearm stands up as he remembers how after a heated argument, Bucky used to sometimes passively aggressively turn up the radio. Steve would glare at Bucky in those moments, watching as he focused angrily on the radio dial like he was searching for something good to listen to, even though they both knew it was Bucky’s way of acting out his frustration. 

Steve swallows down the dread bubbling up in his stomach. He’s never been superstitious, but this is too weird.

The muffled buzz of his phone on the carpet finally draws his eyes back down to the floor, and Steve just sits there, staring at it for several moments. 

When it stops buzzing, he slowly leans over and picks it up.

There are no messages to read because he’s completely signed out of Fuckbook. 

The only thing open on his phone is his picture gallery. There’s a little speech bubble asking if Steve wants to make the current photo his background. 

Steve’s heart clenches as he stares down at the last picture he took with Bucky, right before he went in cryo.

*

The next morning, when Steve wakes up, the warmth he’s come to expect waking up to isn’t there. He thinks back to the night before, and picture of him and Bucky. 

“Are you here?” he blurts out. 

Of course there is no response. 

He deletes Fuckbook from his phone and just sits on the couch, waiting, hoping for something, anything to happen. But nothing happens. Nothing falls or breaks, and somehow that’s much, much worse.

As he makes his way down to the common room to have lunch with Sam and Tony as they regularly do now, Steve debates about whether to tell them about what happened. If there’s anyone would believe him, it would be them. They’ve all seen some pretty crazy stuff from aliens to mythological monsters come to life. 

But he doesn’t say anything. There are too many things about the situation that make Steve uneasy. Bucky’s in Wakanda, in a deep deep coma. If somehow his spirit was haunting Steve, that would mean…

Steve can’t bring himself to even think about it. 

So when Sam asks how he slept, he says ‘like a baby’. 

The look Sam gives Steve says he’s not buying it, but he’s not going to push. Sam knows him almost as well as Bucky used to these days. The thought is bittersweet.

“You hook up with anyone yet?” Sam asks before chugging down some fresh squeezed orange juice.

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t found anyone yet.”

Tony finally looks up from his huge tablet to give Steve a wry smile. “You’re not looking for a life partner, alright? Say it with me. Fuck. Buddy. No conversation needed.”

“Shit!” Tony says, jumping as his glass falls over, spilling orange juice in his lap.

“Man you’ve really gotten clumsy,” Sam says with a judgemental look.

“Funny you say that because this kind of stuff only happens when I’m around you two,” Tony says with annoyance. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re messing with me.”

Sam puts up both of his hands. “Hey man, I didn’t touch anything or anybody.”

Tony turns his glare onto Steve as he cleans up. “I’m just saying, a lot of accidents started happening when you two showed up.”

“I think Bucky’s dead,” Steve blurts out.

Sam and Tony snap their heads to stare at Steve in shock.

“What did you just say?” Sam asks sharply.

Steve’s cheeks are wet, and his vision is blurry now but he doesn’t even care. Cold certainty sits firm and heavy in the pit of his stomach.

“I said, Bucky’s dead. He’s been....dead for at least a couple of weeks and....I think he’s mad at me.”

Tony’s eyes dart between Steve and Sam like he’s looking for Sam to jump in and help. 

“What do you mean he’s been dead for a couple of weeks, and he’s mad at you?” Tony asks. “Steve, you’re not making any sense, buddy.”

Tony never calls him by his name, so Steve knows he’s nervous, but this is real and Steve has to deal with it.

“He’s... haunting me. I know it,” Steve almost whispers.

“Steve--” Sam starts.

“At first it was little stuff,” Steve says, blinking away the tears. “Like moving things around, and breaking things, but then when I signed up for that app...it became more obvious. You remember when I asked for you for the door repair and sprinkler check, Tony?”

Tony nods cautiously.

“That all happened when I tried to leave to meet up with someone from the site. And then last night, Bucky actually moved my phone right in front of me so I couldn’t check my messages. When I finally got a hold of it, a picture of us was pulled up. That’s not just strange, that was a message.”

“And the message was?” Sam prompts slowly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer.

“That’s just it, I don’t know. When we were...before the war, Bucky was always the one trying to set me up on dates, to help me find someone special. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out why he’s been….”

“Cock-blocking you?” Tony offers.

Steve frowns at the term but really there’s no other term that describes it better. “Yeah.”

“First of all, Bucky’s not dead,” Sam says. “We would have received word from T’Challa by now. Second of all, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all of this. Perhaps it’s just a run of bad luck or you really do need to rest more. You know you don’t sleep as much as you should.”

Steve shakes his head, but Tony cuts him off.

“Listen to Wilson, Steve. I know you’re stubborn as hell and get fixated on ideas and _people_ , namely your pal, but let’s look at this rationally for a second. Even if your best friend of over 70 years did suddenly die, don’t you think it would be a huge coincidence for it to occur right after you left Wakanda?”

Steve opens his mouth and Tony puts up his finger to shush him.

“I’m not finished, not only is that unlikely, but even if that did occur, why would your best friend haunt you in a way that would prevent you from finding a sexual partner? Oooh!” Tony’s eyes widen comically. “Wait a minute. Are you sure you guys were only friends?”

“Yes!” Steve hisses. “Bucky was into women, okay? He never looked at me the way I....” Something sticks in his throat as he thinks of the countless nights he’s spent trying to talk himself out of being in love with his best friend.

Both Sam and Tony wear matching expressions of sympathy and pity. It make Steve bristle with anger. He doesn’t need their damn pity.

“Sorry man, I didn’t know,” Sam says softly and Steve can’t even look at him. 

“Wait! Did Bucky know?” Tony asks suddenly.

Steve shakes his head, eyes focused on the counter. “No, of course not. It was a different time, and even if it was socially acceptable, I would never put that sort of pressure on him. He’s straight and it would have made things weird, probably would have ruined our friendship.”

They all sit in thick silence for a moment, the weight of Steve’s secret hanging over the room like a dark cloud. As much as Steve hates being pitied, there’s a relief in the confession. He grabs his chest, trying to contain a sob. This is the fifth time he’s lost Bucky, and the last. 

Suddenly Tony slams his palm down on the counter. “Before we join in this pity party for what could potentially be the world’s most epic and tragic unrequited love story, let’s sort out the facts first. Friday?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get T’Challa on the phone, please.”

“Yes, Sir. Calling….”

The phone only rings once. “Hello, Tony Stark. Funny that you called.” 

Steve closes his eyes. The rich timbre of T’Challa’s voice hits him like a bucket of cold water. As sure as he is of Bucky’s fate, he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it said.

Tony cocks his head. “Funny how?”

“Well, I was just about to call you, since Captain Rogers’ phone is off. I have been trying to reach him.”

Steve’s curses himself for turning off his phone. It doesn’t matter now though. Steve holds his breath and Sam reaches out to squeeze his hand. Steve lets him, his eyes still closed as he waits for the anvil to drop.

“He’s right here,” Tony says. 

“Oh? Excellent. Captain Rogers?”

“Yes,” Steve says breathes out.

“Your friend, James--”

Steve sucks in air and squeezes Sam’s hand so tightly it probably hurts.

“Has been successfully cured of his programming.”

A loud gasp greets this news, and Steve belatedly realizes it came from him. 

“Wait, what?” Tony asks.

“Our neuroscientists have been working on advancements in epigenetic reprogramming for quite some time. They were able to isolate and modify the area of James’ brain directly related to the code words, with minimal additional memory loss. We have conducted several trials, and he has responded positively to all of them. He is cured, and awake, I might add.”

“Bucky’s awake,” Steve repeats. 

“Yes, Captain Rogers, and he has been asking for you. Per his wishes, we wanted to make sure he was completely in the clear before contacting you. Would you like to speak to him?”

“I’d like to see him,” Steve says, standing up. “For myself.” 

Because if Bucky’s alive, then what the hell has been going on these last few weeks? It had to be Bucky, either that or Steve is really losing his mind.

“You’re always welcome here in Wakanda, Captain.”

Steve looks to Tony, who nods his head quickly. “I’ll have Friday warm the jet up. But I’m coming with you this time, that is...if I’m welcome.”

“As a guest of Captain Rogers, yes, you are.” 

There’s a smile in T’Challa’s voice, and Steve appreciates the classy acknowledgement of distrust and display of loyalty. 

Tony huffs silently as if offended and Steve puts up his hand to quiet him because as classy as T’Challa is, he still has his blind spots and can be prideful and petty, just like Tony.

“I’m coming too,” Sam says.

“Excellent. We welcome your return. See you all very soon.”

The call closes out, and Steve exhales loudly, throwing his head back.

“Told you!” Sam says.

“Sam, I’ve never been so happy to be wrong, but if that wasn’t Bucky haunting me, what the hell was it?”

Sam shrugs. 

"As I've said on numerous ocassions,” Tony says. “Going without sex for too long will make you crazy. Exhibit A, everyone.”

Steve groans as he stands up. “Yeah alright, Tony. Enough talking, we got a jet to board.”

*

Tony’s jet is fast, but not fast enough to stave off Steve’s slow-building anxiety about seeing Bucky again. He was just coming to terms with his resentment and sadness over Bucky choosing cryo sleep and the grief that came with mourning Bucky’s death. 

Bucky asked for him. That’s what T’Challa said. 

That could mean anything. Maybe he wanted to tell Steve ‘thanks for everything but I’m going to go be on my own now.’ 

Steve’s not sure if he could take another goodbye from Bucky. 

But if it’s not goodbye, what lies ahead for them? Steve’s spent too long regretting not confessing his feelings for Bucky, and now he has his chance. The same old fears of Bucky rejecting him and things turning unbearably awkward resurface.

“Relax, man. He’s alive. This is good,” Sam tells him.

Steve nods and keeps his eyes on the small window, not really seeing the sky.

Eight hours later, Wakanda gives Tony’s jet clearance to enter their aerial security wards. They land and are escorted by two Dora Milaje in a futuristic car to the large translucent building Steve and Sam named the egg because it is oval and white. 

Tony is bouncing like a tourist, asking questions about the tech that screens them at the door. Once the doors open, they are taken up in a elevator that opens into room full of glass, steel, and holographic images of the human brain. 

T’Challa and his scientists turn away from the blue and violet images on the wall. 

“Captain Rogers, Sam, it is nice to see you again,” T’Challa greets. “Tony Stark, welcome.” 

Tony’s asking T’Challa about his building specs, and what kind of technology is running it because he knows it’s not electric. 

Steve tunes them out as the side door opens. Bucky stalks in, wearing a loose pair of grey linen pants and a grey and black dashiki.

“Bucky…” Steve moves without thinking, but as he gets closer, his steps stutter.

There’s a deep scowl on Bucky’s face and Steve looks back at Tony, wondering if was a mistake to bring him. 

“I’m sorry, I should have come alone,” Steve rushes to say.

Bucky growls and Steve recoils. When Bucky lifts his hands and grabs Steve by the back of the head, instinct kicks in. Steve stiffens and clenches his fists, ready to wrangle himself out of Bucky’s grip.

But Steve has no defensive maneuver for what comes next. With one insistent tug, Bucky pulls Steve mouth down to meet his. Steve freezes as Bucky’s demanding mouth covers his. His eyes widen as he stares at Bucky, who is staring right back at him. 

Steve blinks.

Bucky is kissing him. Very passionately.

As understanding sets in, Steve’s eyes flutter close and he sighs into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s tongue slips into his mouth, exploring and possessive. A moan escapes Steve as he completely gives in. He grips Bucky’s waist and kisses back just as hard as he’s being kissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tony exclaims. “That is not how platonic friends greet each other.”

Bucky finally pulls away, his hands still gripping Steve’s head quite possessively. “You fucking punk. You just couldn’t wait, could you? What happened to ‘Til the end of the line’, huh? As soon as I go under, you go out looking for a fuck buddy? Really, Steve?”

Shock and anger ignite and Steve pulls Bucky’s hands off of him. “Me? You didn’t even ask what I thought about you going into cryo. You just made up your mind, like my feelings didn’t matter to you. _You left me,_ Bucky! What was I supposed to do? Sit around and cry for the rest of my life because you abandoned me, _again._ And why would you care anyway about me fucking other people? When have you ever cared about that?”

Bucky’s eyes fall and his cheeks redden. Steve cups his face, forcing Bucky to look at him. The raw open emotion in his eyes hits Steve like a dart. 

“You care?” he whispers.

Bucky’s face softens. “Of course I do.”

A soft whimper slips from Steve’s lips. “But you never….it was always girls with you. And then you chose cryo and left me again…I thought...Bucky, I thought...”

“I was afraid,” Bucky says quietly. “It’s just like you said - I didn’t want to ruin our friendship and make things awkward. But after hearing all of the things you said, and _didn’t_ say, I finally pieced together how you really feel about me. And it’s the exact same way I feel about you. Always have. I couldn let you...Steve, you’re _mine._ ” 

The shakiness of Bucky’s voice betrays his declarative statement. Steve strokes his cheek, looking at his beautiful face, still in disbelief because Bucky Barnes feels the same way he feels. All those years wasted. All this time. Steve’s damn lucky Bucky was watching, that he was able to piece it together.

Steve gasps. “You heard me say all of that? You were watching me….from here?”

Bucky nods, his flesh hand grasping Steve’s arm tightly.

“Wait,” Sam says, “Let me get this straight. Are you telling us you somehow managed to haul your comatose ass seven thousand miles to upstate New York so you could cock-block Steve?”

Bucky raises one daring eyebrow. 

Tony shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe it. Impossible. I’m calling bullshit.”

“Oh really?” Bucky says. “Maybe I should have a little talk with Pepper about your interest in Fuckbook. That is if you two are still ‘working on it’.” He throws up air quotes. “And Wilson, you totally deserved that seat squish. Now maybe you’ll be more considerate of others in the backseat.”

Sam’s mouth drops open and for the first time Steve’s ever seen, Tony is at a loss for words. 

They’re all staring at Bucky like he’s grown another head. 

“It’s called astral traveling,” Bucky explains. “It’s practiced in many eastern religions, at least some variation of it. I may have ramped it up a few notches when you left Wakanda.”

“A few notches?” Tony says incredulously. “You left your fucking body and traveled over seven thousand miles. _And then_ you somehow managed to move stuff too. What kind of sorcery is that?”

Bucky shrugs. “I’d follow this punk anywhere. Plus, it was kinda fun messing with you guys.”

Sam throws up his hands. “Oh great, not only is this asshole an asshole, but he’s a warlock too. I’m gonna say this once, and once only - stay away from me, Barnes. I don’t care if you’re in your body or not, I will whip your ass the next time you try that shit on me again.”

Bucky’s smile grows feral. “You sure about that?”

Sam narrows his eyes. “I hate you.”

Bucky snorts and grabs Steve’s hand, pulling him towards the elevator. 

“Uh, we’ll be back. See you later,” Steve murmurs to no one in particular.

“Yeah, much, much later,” Tony calls. “Jesus Christ, what a bunch of horndogs.”

The elevator closes and Bucky pushes Steve against the wall, crowding him. It’s the best feeling in the world and Steve fists Bucky’s dashiki to pull him even closer. His mind goes a bit fuzzy as Bucky’s hot mouth explores his. 

When Bucky nips at his bottom lip and pulls back, his eyes are wet. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone,” he says quietly. “I thought I was making things better. But I was wrong. I won’t ever leave you again.”

“You better not,” Steve nearly growls. “Or it’ll be my turn to to haunt _your_ ass.”

Bucky scoffs. “Stevie, I'm not sure you understand what I went through to follow you. Astral travel is very difficult. And to be honest, I still not quite sure how I managed to pull it off.”

“Got no idea at all, huh?” Steve asks, suddenly warm all over.

Bucky smirks and leans in to rest his forehead against Steve’s. “Well, I have a hunch a little thing call love helped me out.”

Steve smiles, his heart singing. “I love you too, Buck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my two wonderful betas **Gee** & **bennettmp339**.And a shout out to my writer pals at the stucky slack for their encouragement and feedback.
> 
> Happy Halloween, y'all! <3


End file.
